


Primus Spare My Spark

by Eternal_screaming_void



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 20:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20088349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_screaming_void/pseuds/Eternal_screaming_void
Summary: What happens when a dedicated Priest of Primus meets a Herald of Unicron who's lost his memory?Requiem, a gunformer priest with his own dark past, finds Oblivion at the doorstep of the temple one day, and takes him in to help him regain his memory.





	1. Chapter 1

A priest is often subject to a lot of critique, always supposed to be a model for what others should be, but it was difficult work. Requiem had several problems with patience. It was never his strong suit, even as a sparkling, and now it would seem Primus just had it out for him. He’d been told by the High Priest, one so old and very wise, that he should go out into the gardens for a while that morning and meditate in hopes of starting to cultivate the beginnings of some patience in the younger bot. 

He’d not expected to almost step on someone when he walked out into the gardens. They were very well kept, and Requiem had to admit, he did find the gardens quite calming. Techno-organic flowers and flora, mixed with purely organic life. It just seemed to ooze comfort and calmness; but that aura was all but shattered as Requiem steps outside, the minibot’s pede all but stepping on someone's face. The graceful gunformer wasn’t quite so graceful as he let out a sharp yell, pede jerking up into the air again, causing him to stumble down into a row of blue spark flowers. “Primus spare my spark!” The bot exclaims, staring slack jawed at what he’d all but stepped on. There was little use in describing this thing as anything other than monstrous. Tall, and dark, with an aura of danger all around him, tainting the peacefulness of the garden, many scars littering the mech’s frame, including his face and lips. A warrior, true and undisputed.

Requiem stares for several moments more, until he realizes the thing was hurt. Deep, oozing wounds dripping with energon littered the mech’s frame, and the priest leaps to act. It was against his oath as a Priest of Primus to let any wounded person go without first trying to help them. Pulling a welding torch from his subspace, he sets to work, quickly closing the bleeding wounds. He hesitated to try and wake the mech, as he did seem very dangerous, and the last thing he wanted was to get hurt for trying to help. Instead, he gets the help of a few other priests, several of them much larger than the minibot, and hauled their visitor into a hab suite for the time being.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Checking that the temple’s new visitor was alive and well fell to the one who had found him, and so, after attending to his various other duties, he knocks on the hab suite door, waiting for an answer to see if he was awake. Only a low, irritated growl answers him, and Requiem has to steel himself, taking in a deep, slow invent, before stepping inside the room. The priest was very glad he hadn’t simply barged in, as the mech was now sitting up in bed, and was looking to be in a towering temper. 

“What in the Pit’s do you want?” Came the growl, deep and irritated, but not quiet hateful. No, the giant mech was terrified. The gunformer quails for only a moment as the much larger mech was very intimidating. Requiem gulps slightly before answering, holding out a cube of medgrade Energon. “I was assigned to your care. I have some fuel here for you, if you’re hungry. I also have some medicines to finish treating your wounds.” 

The larger mech takes a deep invent, eyeing the cube of medgrade in an accusatory manner. Why was he here? How did he get here? How did he get hurt? It was all a blur and made his helm hurt to think about it. 

“My wounds are fine.” He mumbled, but he does take the offered cube of fuel, taking it from the offering hands and downing it in a few quick moments. Requiem watches those powerful jaws part to consume the energon, transfixed for a moment, and then remembered it was rude to stare, and looked away. “May..may I ask your name?” The mech fixes Requiem with a sharp, look that melted slowly into one of compassion. “I suppose so, since you just did.” The large blendtron shifts, bending down as much as his wounds would allow, so that he wasn’t towering over the gunformer quite as much.   
“My name is Oblivion. May I ask yours, then?”

Requiem offers a small smile, content with the fact so far that this mech wasn’t going to just squish him. “My name is Requiem.” Oblivion hums a moment, but his terrifying face breaks into a small, charismatic smile.   
“It’s a pleasure to meet you then.” 

Only an hour later, Oblivion was up and walking about. He seemed to be recovering quickly, not an uncommon thing for Cybertronians, but it didn’t stop Requiem from worrying. Those wounds had been deep and he was worried that they were going to get infected, or worse, refuse to heal properly; and at the tiny priests pleading, Oblivion eventually obliged to let him see to the wounds again. Several of them had already healed over, and those Requiem didn’t bother with, focusing on the much larger gashes that threatened to still bleed. Using a welding torch, he sets to work on welding up the cuts and gashes, as Oblivion begrudgingly lays back on the berth. 

“Do you know what hurt you?” Requiem looks up from his work, using a bit of gauze to stim a fresh flow of energon. Oblivion pauses, wincing slightly and frowning, rubbing his chin in thought. “I-I can’t say I do.” Silence falls between the two for a moment, as Requiem moves a little closer to get at the wounds on the mech’s side. “What’s the last thing you remember then?” The gunformer looks up, concerned. If this mech had amnesia, well, things could be much worse than they seemed.

“I remember waking up somewhere..ah, there’s a young girl running by..” He rubs his helm a moment, falling silent. “I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?!” Shock, and for the second time, fear rush through the bots voice as his optics widen. “I can see her, clear as day, but I just..I-I don’t know who she is!” Requiem reaches his tiny servo out to the beast’s arm, in a calm, comforting way. “Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Take a deep breath for me, yeah?” Oblivion scowls a little at feeling coddled, but does as he’s told, taking in a deep invent and letting it out, falling silent for a moment afterwards. 

“What if I can’t get my memories back?” The question had been inevitable. It’s the question everyone goes to when something like this happens, ‘what if?’. Requiem pauses a moment, thinking, chewing over his words and thoughts before answering. In all truth, the priest didn’t have the answers. He could only offer comfort, and a glimpse of hope. “I’ll help you get them back.” The words tumble out of his mouth despite his hesitancy to say them, and yet they felt right to say, as Oblivion visibly relaxed some. “I would appreciate it. Immensely.” A small, wry smile comes across the blendtron’s face and Requiem grins in return, his blue visor curving up in a bit of a squint as he does so. Oblivion pauses though, smiling a little more sheepishly. “I’m..sorry, about how rude I was. I’m really sorry.” Requiem smiles, and the little gunformer relaxes. “It’s okay. I’d be a little mean if I was in your position too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Three months had passed rather uneventfully, and they were no closer to finding out who their only visitor was. The Temple of Primus didn’t receive many visitors, except the odd pilgrim, though it was open for all to enter, so long as they were respectful of the priest's duties. However, visitors weren't allowed in the inner sanctum of the temple, except on one specific holiday.

The Festival of Lost Light was a week long event where the priests opened up the temple fully to the public. On the first two days of the celebrations the priests got together to perform a two day prayer for the lost souls of Cybertron. While the priests main goal wasn’t to convert people (on the contrary, they have a rather strict policy about allowing people to believe what they choose), this was a very important ceremony for them, as it represented Primus’ undying love for his children. The days after the opening prayer ceremony were full of feasts, and sermons, and gift exchanges, open for everyone to take part in. Many people always showed up for the festival, from all over Cybertron!

While the celebrations were still a week off, several pilgrims had already arrived at the temple, and while they were seeking shelter in the nearby town, they often made their way to the temple for their daily prayers, and on occasion brought their young with them. Requiem didn’t mind this, as he handled the childcare for the temple, running the orphanage that the temple had within its walls. But on occasion, it did cause him frustration. For example, when a visitor’s sparkling and one of his own charges made their way down the halls of the temple, trying to see who could glide the farthest, and manage to knock a lamp loose from the wall. It was very lucky neither of them got hurt, though they were both reasonably upset. Requiem had taken them back to the nursery for a nap before returning to try and fix the lamp. 

The lights lining the halls of the temple were all made of a softly glowing blue stone, made up to look similar to lamps and lanterns. They could be taken off the walls if needed, and carried as a light source. But, because this one had suffered a fall, it needed to be returned to its place.

Requiem grunts as he stands on his tiptoes, reaching with all his might to try and get the lamp to hook back into place, before falling back against the wall with an irritated sigh. He hated being so short at times like these, but normally he was able to find some clever work around. However, nothing was clicking in his processor at the moment. He looks to his left, a little further down the hall, at the door to Oblivion’s guest room. The door was ajar slightly, allowing a bit of clear daylight to filter into the hallway, and Requiem grins. He had found his solution. Picking up the lantern in one hand, he moves down the hallway, and stops for a moment behind the door to regain his composure, taking a deep invent, and then knocking. 

“Come in!” Came the deep, but light voice, as Oblivion turns to face the door, smiling when he saw Requiem. The two of them had developed quite the bond, ever since Requiem had first found Oblivion in the gardens. Requiem grins, and bows his helm in greeting, before gesturing to the lamp filling his servos. “Hi! Sorry to bother you, but you were closest, can I ask for your help with something real quick? It shouldn’t take long.” Oblivion doesn’t frown, or get angry at being asked to help, he just smiles, and carefully bookmarks his place in the book he was reading, before standing. 

There was no other way to describe it. Oblivion looked like a monster. He towers over Requiem, and his skull like face was glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the window, the light reflecting briefly from his fangs, and then to his long, slender claws. But his deep, gentle voice, and the barely present Iaconian accent contrasted his looks, showing off the true nature of the beast.

“I’d be happy to! May I ask what happened? One of the younglings didn’t get hurt, did they?” He asks, a slight note of worry in his words, but he knew that even if one of them did get hurt, Requiem would fix them right up. It was evident in how seriously the young priest took his duties just how much he cares for those children, even when no one else would.

“No, the little trouble makers are okay, but they were a little upset. I took them back to the nursery for a nap.” Requiem caught himself staring at Oblivion’s face, and flushes a little, looking away, and around the room instead. The guest rooms of the temple were nothing to brag about, only a berth, a small desk, and a window adorned the room, but it would seem Oblivion had no qualms with it. If anything, it would seem he was thriving in such a minimalistic room.

“Oh dear, well, I’m glad they’re okay, Requiem.” The minibot’s helm jerks up as he was spoken to again, and he smiles a little to cover his sudden lapse in attention, and nods.

“Yeah, me too! Uh..but see, they knocked down a lamp from the wall, and I can’t reach it to put it back up, and that’s where I need your help.”

Oblivion smiles again, and nods, gesturing to his chair as he speaks. “Shall we use a chair, or do you mind me picking you up?” Requiem flushes a little more, and shrugs. 

“I don’t mind you picking me up, if that’d be easiest!” Oblivion noticed the minibot’s flushed faceplates, but didn’t comment on it as his own heated up for just a moment. It wasn’t his place to call attention to it, though he had to admit, it wasn’t a bad look on the priest. Oblivion wasn’t the most tactile mech in the world, and generally preferred a simple conversation at a respectful distance than any touching or cuddling, but he didn’t mind it bad enough to not help the gunformer when asked. 

“Of course, if you'll lead the way then?” He puts a hand to his waist, and bows a little to the minibot, who grins brightly, leading the way out of the room, back into the hallway, and to the now bare hook, much further up on the wall.

“It’s this one. I don’t know how on Cybertron they got up there to knock it off, but they did.’ Requiem smiles and shrugs a little. “At least they didn’t break it though! That would have been..interesting to fix.” He rubs the back of his helm for a moment, before looking back up at Oblivion. “You ready?”

Oblivion hesitates, trying to decide where to grab the priest. By the arms? No, then he couldn’t put the lamp back up. By the legs? No, then he’d be upside down. Why was this so difficult and awkward?! Requiem hesitates a second before reaching up with his servos, and very gently pulling Oblivion’s down to his own waste. “Got it? It’ll be over in a flash!” Oblivion blinks gratefully, and nods; why didn’t he think of that?

Bending down, he scoops up the Primalist by the waist, holding him up so he could reach the hook, letting his weight lean against his larger frame. They were both quiet for a moment as Requiem tries his best to get the lantern back on its hook, until Oblivion breaks the silence. 

“So, the Festival of Lost Light is next week, yes? Do you have a partner to work with you for your prayer?” During the priests fifty three hour marathon of prayer, they were required to have a partner to tend to their bodily needs, such as making sure they had enough energon to function, making sure they didn’t get sick, or weak, or start getting agitated. 

Requiem jolts slightly as he hears Oblivion ask him this, almost dropping the lantern, but Oblivion holds him tighter, careful not to accidentally hurt him. “Careful, young priest I don’t wish for you to fall!” Requiem invents, and lets out a soft little huff as he returns to trying to fix the lantern’s bent hook.   
“Uh, no. I don’t. I figured I’d just get assigned someone the day before by the High Priest.” 

Oblivion was silent for a moment longer, nodding.   
“If you wish, I wouldn’t mind doing it.” He knew this meant staying at Requiem’s side for two full days, and then some, tending to the priests every need, but he didn’t mind. If anything, he was actually rather excited about it, ready to make up for all the time Requiem had spent tending to his wounds and his needs. And there was a deeper desire too, one he wouldn’t acknowledge quite yet, a desire for affection from the priest.

Requiem doesn’t respond for a moment, finally getting the lantern back up on its hook, and gently tapping Oblivion’s arm as a sign to be lowered back down. With his pedes back on the ground, he takes a moment to process what Oblivion had said. “Are you being serious? I mean, you know that means looking after me for all that time.” Oblivion chuckles, and reaches down to give the gunformer a gentle pat on the helm. 

“I’m aware, Requiem, and I’m okay with that. I can finally make up for how much of a jerk I was when we first met.” Requiem lets out a soft chirping sound, somewhere between indignation and laughter at having his helm patted. 

“I told you it was okay! But oh, okay. You can be my partner then!”


End file.
